


Something You Don't Know

by unadrift



Series: SGA Season Five Tags [11]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-29
Updated: 2009-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And John had been so sure that his school days were over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something You Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tag for _The Lost Tribe_, beta'd by villainny.

It probably doesn't surprise anyone that, after he gets back from being a fractious hostage, Rodney starts yelling as soon as he sets foot in the control room.

"What _the hell_ have you done with my city?!" is only the beginning.

As glad as John is to have Rodney back alive and kicking, he thinks it best to manfully sneak away while Rodney is busy chewing out the repair crew, and the clean-up crew, and everyone else in shouting distance.

If that also means that John can avoid crossing paths with Woolsey for a little longer, that's just an added bonus. John had pointedly _not_ promised not to blow up the city. And keeping the explosion confined to the main tower should really be considered an achievement on John's part. But he doubts Woolsey will see it that way.

He spends the day doing damage control. The explosion has affected a number of systems, some of which aren't even close to the main tower. Power conduits have blown all over the city. John is mainly coordinating the military manpower, sending his men wherever the scientists need assistance. The work isn't strenuous, exactly, but by the end of the day his back hurts like a bitch.

When John finally calls it a night, he finds the lights burning in his quarters. He enters suspiciously and scans the room. There is no one there, and everything is exactly where he left it, except-- What the hell?

There are books and papers stacked up high on his fridge, tilting dangerously to the side. John walks over to straighten the stack and picks up the book from the top, which is titled 'High Voltage Power Distribution'. On the first page he finds the words 'property of Miko Kusanagi' written down in small handwriting. That certainly explains why the cover is so neatly wrapped in plastic foil. The paper beneath Kusanagi's textbook is one of the internal Atlantis science division publications and has the watermark _classified_ embedded across the first page. It's titled 'Subharmonic Shield Technology: Why It Works'. No way is this one of Rodney's, not with that title. John checks, and he's right. It's Zelenka's work.

There is only one possible source for this selection of science literature John can think of. Sure enough, Rodney walks into the room unannounced that very moment, another stack of papers and books piled up in his arms with the top tucked under his chin.

"Oh, hey," Rodney says, nodding at him, and only John's quick reflexes prevent the paper tower from tumbling to the ground. They deposit the stuff on John's bed.

"What is all this?" John asks, although he really doesn't want to. He just wants to get some sleep. He picks up an issue of 'Acta Materialia' from the bed and starts leafing through it. There is text, _a lot_ of text, and diagrams. The pictures look mostly cool, in an abstract kind of way, but they're all black and white.

"Research material," Rodney answers, almost bouncing on his feet with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I got that." John is too tired for the required eye-rolling. "What _for_?"

"Oh, for all kinds of useful disciplines," Rodney says. Whether he's willfully misunderstanding or just a tad more oblivious than usual is anybody's guess. "We wouldn't want to narrow your education down too far, would we?"

John blinks. He must have heard that wrong. "My-- what?"

"Your education," Rodney repeats. "I've taken it upon myself to tutor you in the future."

Nope, John _had_ heard right. And he had been so sure that his school days were over. "Tutor me? _Tutor_ me?"

"Yes. Tutor you," Rodney repeats, announcing every syllable with care. He frowns at John. "I'm starting to remember why I keep forgetting how smart you really are. Because you _are_ smart, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Zelenka told me what happened while I was--" He waves his hand, wincing, "--gone. How you saved everyone from death-by-stargate-- That was quick thinking. It was _clever_. Imagine the things you could do with the right kind of knowledge backing up your skills."

John stares at Rodney. This is probably the closest thing to a compliment Rodney has uttered here in Atlantis, or maybe ever. Wait a minute, this _is_ a compliment. An actual compliment. About John's intelligence.

John wonders whether he has fallen asleep at his desk and is dreaming this up. Although there have to be a number of scenarios in his subconscious that would be more enjoyable than Rodney McKay complimenting him on his intelligence, right now John can't think of one. And he can't help the grin that spreads across his face either.

"So I brought you some material to read through," Rodney goes on. "I was thinking that the shield might be a good place to start, since it's an interesting piece of technology, and not only in the sense that it has saved our asses more often than I care to count. But without some basic knowledge on power distribution you won't get half of the things I'm going to explain to you. Of course the cloak is next on the-- What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," John answers, smile widening.

"Are you still on pain killers?" Rodney asks suspiciously. "Because if I'm wasting my breath here talking to you--"

"I'm not high, Rodney."

"You sure look like you are."

"Not high on drugs, at least," John mutters to himself.

Rodney is frowning suspiciously again. "What was that?"

"Nothing," John answers, still smiling.

"Oh, that's it." Rodney points a finger at him. "You. Go to bed. Sleep it off. I'll come back when you're sober."

"Rodney," John sighs. "I am _not_ high on painkillers."

"Clearly, you are."

They are about one-and-a-half steps away from a very grown-up 'Are!' – 'Am not!' – 'You _so_ are!' – 'I'm _not!_' discussion, and John feels just too not-high to go down that road. Even with Rodney.

"What's in it for you?" he asks instead.

The change of topic throws Rodney for a loop. "What do you mean?"

"I seem to remember that tutors used to charge a pretty mean fee." Not that John had ever needed a tutor. He just seemed to remember.

"Well, for one, I'm going to have a decent assistant for the duration of our missions." Rodney catches John's glare. "Um. Or not. At the very least I will repeatedly not die in the future, when your newfound knowledge kicks in and saves the day-- only when I'm unconscious or otherwise incapable of preventing certain doom, of course."

"Of course." John nods seriously. He can't quite grasp the level of confidence Rodney puts in him. "I don't think that actually counts as a fee. So, what do you charge?"

If Rodney fixes a price, then John can choose not to pay it. Rodney will gather his collection of research materials and never bother John again. It is a nice thought to entertain, except that John isn't delusional, and therefore fully aware of the fact that Rodney will not let this go easily.

"Oh, I wouldn't know about the appropriate charge anyway," Rodney says dismissively. "I never could summon up the patience for tutoring, and it wasn't like I needed the money. I did do it once, though. Annabelle," Rodney sighs wistfully. "She was hopeless in physics. She didn't exactly _pay_ me in the sense of--" Rodney stops, blushing. "Uh, never mind."

John is pretty sure he knows what _that_ look means. "Rodney!" he exclaims in mock indignation. "You tutored her in exchange for sexual favors?"

"I was seventeen!" Rodney says defensively. "Everyone I knew was at least five years older than me, and while that certainly wasn't a problem for _me_, people weren't exactly standing in line to get physical with me! She wasn't blonde, but reasonably attractive. It was a win-win situation. At least until she wanted me to write her papers. That was the end of our business relationship."

"Because you had standards."

"Exactly!"

John tilts his head and watches Rodney closely, because he doesn't want to miss a single muscle twitch of Rodney's reaction. "I can do sexual favors," he says.

Rodney blinks. Stares. Blinks again. "I was prepared to do this just for the good of Atlantis, but if you insist."

Okay, John thinks, with Rodney's tongue hot in his mouth, and Rodney's hands tight on his arms. So that approach had kind of backfired.

Rodney pulls his mouth away. "I take it all back," he whispers. John shivers at the breath brushing across his cheek. "You're a moron. _I'm_ a moron. I should have seen it. You could have _said_."

John has no idea what Rodney is talking about, but if Rodney is any good at tutoring, John is probably going to clue in at some point. In the meantime, Rodney pushes him down on the bed, shoving books and papers aside. The sharp pain from the cuts in his back makes John gasp and reflexively turn on his side. He rolls onto a book that pokes him in the ribs, which is almost as painful.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asks, concerned.

John grabs the damn book. "This is German," he complains and shoves 'Simulation elektrischer Feldverteilungen' over the edge of the bed.

"There's a translation. Somewhere. At least for the useful chapters," Rodney says and kisses him again.

It feels good. It feels fucking _brilliant_. If John hadn't already known that Rodney is a genius, he'd have figured it out now.

* * *

After that, they turn out to have a kind of frequent sort of exclusive thing.

Rodney insists they need to do serious lessons now, since John is actually paying him for the tutoring. In services. Regularly and enthusiastically. John doesn't _want_ to be homeschooled by Rodney, but he has yet to find a flaw in Rodney's logic.

Now, there's a twisted case of double-sided blackmail John hasn't quite figured out yet.

So one night he bites the bullet, sighs, and turns his attention to the pile of research materials. A big, folded piece of paper, like a map, catches John's attention. He frees it from the middle of the stack on his fridge and recognizes Atlantis's city schematics.

John already knows these. Maybe 'learning' them slowly will keep Rodney off his back for a couple of days. He unfolds the plans and finds a post-it note stuck to them. It's neon pink and color-clashes painfully with the red-marked power conduits on the schematics. 'FOR REFERENCE ONLY' the post-it reads in capital letters. Smaller, beneath it, Rodney has scribbled, 'Seriously, start with something you don't know'.

John grins. He already has.


End file.
